


Dear Penthouse #3

by Elayna



Series: The Penthouse Letters [3]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Established Relationship, Multi, Plot What Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-02-14
Updated: 2008-02-14
Packaged: 2017-10-18 06:50:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/186157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elayna/pseuds/Elayna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>M.R.M. writes a third Penthouse letter.  P0rn, p0rn, and more p0rn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dear Penthouse #3

Dear Penthouse:

I thought you and your readers might be interested in how the unexpected menage a quatre between my wife and I and the couple from across the street has evolved, and the events that occurred on my male lover's birthday.

The week passed quickly. We were not able to meet with John and Teyla every night, as Teyla teaches dance classes several evenings, and the 'ground rules' had established that the couples should not be separated durig this beginning phase. I found this revelation a bitter lesson in the danger of dismissing administrative nonsense, a lesson I am afraid I have had to learn several times at work. Though I am a genius, my occasional downfall is not recognizing that some people's idiotic ideas must be taken seriously.

However, the breaks allowed Katie and I to go shopping, so the time was not wasted. We purchased a California King mattress and a new headboard. Our current headboard is a sleigh style with no protusions or gaps for attaching, well, *anything* to it, not that we have reached that stage yet. Still, it seemed wise to be prepared, and the new headboard has twisty posts with gaps between them that we hope will be useful.

We also discovered a new interest in shopping for sheets. Previously, Katie has simply bought ones that she liked, generally ones with red roses, as she is a botanist and attracted to flower designs. Since we needed new sheets to fit the larger mattress, we took great pleasure in debating skin tones and who would look best on what colors. Katie is of English ancestry and my great-grandparents all came from Scotland, so we are both very fair-skinned. Though his name is English, John appears to have some ancestors from the south of Europe, as his skin tone is more golden, and Teyla has African or Islander background (though I have not yet been allowed to ask).

Ultimately, we invested in several sets of different colors, rationalizing that we'd likely change them regularly and would need spares.

We spent the evening that the bed was delivered rearranging the bedroom and the guest room. John came over to help but we restricted ourselves to kisses and caresses. As soon as he left, Katie and I christened the new bed most enjoyably, though I admit I wished John could have stayed to participate.

The evenings that we did get together that week were superb. Perhaps the best event was when Katie begged John to give her lessons in fellatio, leaving myself as the subject for the training. I sat naked on the side of the bed, both of them kneeling naked at my feet. I'm not sure that the lesson was completely successful from Katie's perspective, as John would zone out on the feel of my big cock in his mouth, and forget that he was supposed to be giving her pointers.

Still, Teyla sat behind me on the bed, massaging my back and shoulders, and Katie managed to take my length a little deeper, and I eventually had to catch hold of John's wild hair, shove as deep as I could, and come, while Katie sighed and nestled her head on my thigh. Surrounded by the feel of Teyla's breasts rubbing on my back, Katie's soft hair, and John's hot mouth, I considered the event a great success.

Our society conditions us to believe that monogamy is our natural default state, but being loved by all of them made me wonder if a more communal lifestyle would not be more beneficial. As much as I dislike social scientists, I would love to see the results of such a study, if done well and without our cultural biases.

But enough dawdling and onto the highlight of the week. The morning of John's birthday dawned. Katie and I woke in our new bed, too bright and early, and enjoyed a swift bout of sex before rising, showering and eating cereal and toast.

John and Teyla arrived as we were finishing up, and we enjoyed some mild kissing and groping. Alas, John was bouncing in his shoes for reasons other than the delights to be found in the bedroom, so we piled in the car and headed to the air show.

We spent the day watching sleek yet noisy planes scream across the sky, performing complex maneuvers, and wandering through the displays on aviation history and model planes. John was ecstatically happy. I reveled in his glowing smile and consumed my share of sugar and grease offered at the fairground.

John was willing to leave by mid-afternoon, and we separated to our own homes, feeling the need to rinse off the dust and sunscreen oil. John and Teyla scoured as swiftly as we did, returning by the time we were dressed in loose, comfortable clothes. Teyla and Katie disappeared for a few minutes, and John announced, "Teyla's going to do her dance for me." I must have looked blank because he added, "She choreographs a new dance for me every birthday. It's her special present."

I nodded because I could tell there was no way to avoid watching this present. Modern dance has never particularly interested me as an art form, though I am an excellent at ballroom and frequently Katie out for an evening of dancing.

Katie came back, and the three of us settled on the couch, Katie somehow ending up in the middle. I resolved to be gracious in my boredom. Compromises in relationships can be so draining, but Katie had reminded me several times that this was John's birthday, and that I should behave. I had hopes that later events would prove more appealing.

Music started, a sensuous jazz number. Again, I prefer classical, but at least jazz is tolerable compared to some of the pap or disjointed noise on popular radio stations. Teyla struck a pose in the middle of the living room. She'd changed into a piece of lingerie, all white satin and lace, that I believe is called a teddy. Or perhaps a baby doll? I'm sure, dear Penthouse, you can sympathize with my masculine confusion on the terminology. All I know is that she was very sexy in it, and her dancing was more entertaining to watch than I had anticipated, very slow and sensual, less a dance than a chance to admire her slender but muscled body.

The music picked up speed toward the end, and she did more whirling and twirling, which also was pleasant to watch, the lace clinging to her curves as the satiny bits swirled around her lithe body.

As the music ended, she sunk gracefully to her knees between John's spread legs and bowed her head. "That was beautiful," he said huskily, running his fingers through her hair, and Katie and I made noises of agreement.

"And now the coup de grace," she purred, unbuckling John's jeans, unzipping his fly, and teasing his long shaft out of his boxers. She bent her head, sucking him in greedily, making slurping noises as she blew him. Her dark red lips devouring his flushed shaft was a beautiful sight. I had experienced Teyla's skills at fellatio only briefly between changing positions earlier in the week, but I knew they were excellent. I found myself envious of John. Katie curled into me, and I cupped her breasts, teasing the hard nipples between my fingers as she squirmed her ass on my groin.

Teyla was as slow and sensual in blowing John as she had been during the first half of her dance, pleasuring him, keeping him dangling. John muttered the same sort of random phrases and pleas as he did when I fucked him, though I believe they were less emphatic. He was even more gorgeous than normal, head lolling back, throat arched, eyes fluttered shut, filthy, exciting words pouring from his panting mouth until he finally came and came, one hand gripping Teyla's head, holding her in place as he shot deep down her throat.

The restraint didn't seem to have bothered Teyla. She was smiling wickedly when she finally sat back, her tongue licking her lips. "I hope you enjoyed your present."

"You know I did, honey." He petted her head and I was glad that I had Katie to squeeze, or I might have pulled out my dick and lunged to shove into John's mouth. "I'm gonna be down for the count for a bit." He turned his head to look at us. "Rodney, why don’t you take care of the ladies."

"I – yes, fine." Katie and I didn't need to consult as we stood and stripped. Normally neither of us would be comfortable with being naked in our living room, but a couple of evenings with John and Teyla had loosened our inhibitions. In seconds, I was lying on the floor on my back, with Katie impaling herself on my thick cock, while Teyla slipped off her tiny white panties and lowered her bush over my mouth. I gave them my best, conscious of John watching like we were the performers in his very own peep show. We didn't come together, of course, simultaneous orgasms being as rare in real life as they are overused in pornography. I could hear Katie yelling as she writhed on my cock, which sent me spurting into her sweet cunt. A few more eager licks, and Teyla's juices drenched my face.

We sprawled on the floor for a bit, unable to move much, though I was conscious that my back didn't appreciate the hardness of the cement slab under our plush carpet.

John crouched down by me, fully naked now. "Hey." He stroked his hand down my chest, over my limp organ, resting it there. "How about that other present?" His tone was casual, but his eyes were watchful, hopeful. I knew that I could say no, and he would not protest.

A man's virginity is not highly regarded in our cultural mores, simply something to be lost as young as possible. Due to being a genius who skipped several grades, leading to feeling awkward around my older schoolmates, I hadn't lost mine until I was 17, when I was already becoming desperately embarrassed by my situation. But no one had requested my other virginity, and it had never occurred to me that I would gift it to anyone. But this, this I could give to John. John and no one else, and it was a present he wanted and would cherish. I beamed, no longer nervous or insecure. "This seems like a good time for that other present." I took his hand, and he helped me stand. Teyla gave a casual wave and rolled over to occupy Katie as we walked toward the bedroom.

  
John pulled back the covers and the green sheets that we had thought would go best with his eyes, and eased me down on the bed, on my front, straddling my hips and massaging my shoulders.

"You feel less tense than when we met."

"You wouldn't believe how much my blood pressure has improved," I answered.

"We're better than an apple a day," he joked, and indeed they are. It is a shame that Americans are so prudish, because sex is a natural act, very restorative for both the mind and body. Thankfully, John and Teyla weren't burdened by typical American puritanism, and Katie was learning to release her inhibitions.

John scooted down until he was lying between my legs, his face by my ass, and I rose up on my elbows, twisting to look at him. "What are you doing?" I hissed, proving that perhaps Canadians have not entirely escaped Puritanism.

"You have such a great ass," he purred, cupping both cheeks with his hands, was his non-explanatory answer.

"Yes, I know, but what are you doing?"

"Enjoying it," he answered, using his thumbs to spread my cheeks apart, exposing the hole before he bent his head forward, licking a stripe over the hole and up the crevice.

I am sure that my voice did not squeak as I noted that the act was incredibly unsanitary.

"Sex is better when it's messy and dirty," was his unrepentant answer, and he repeated the gesture.

One thing I have learned about John is that though he appears very casual and laidback, he is a very determined man and difficult to dissuade when he's set on a path. And it was his birthday, after all. I let my head slump to the pillow.

'Rimming,' as he later told me the act was called, seems bizarre, but it wonderful. John kept licking, lingering more and more on my hole, giving me the most indescribable pleasure ever, until I feared my genius brain would melt. I almost started to feel guilty at accepting so much ecstasy while remaining passive, but considering how much John loves to suck my thick cock or dance on the end of it, I had to assume he has a similar addiction to rimming my ass.

After a long while, he finally stopped, squeezing my cheeks, and I'm sure I did not whimper anything like, "Don't stop."

"You have such a gorgeous ass." He brushed his thumb over the middle of one cheek. "Can I mark it?"

Now there I do believe I whimpered as I granted permission, cognizant that it was his birthday, and one should not say no to the birthday boy.

He began to mark me by licking, sucking, and taking tiny bites, all on the same spot on my ass. It has been a long time since anyone has given me a hickey on my neck, but the experience still felt delicious in this new location.

Suddenly, he smacked my other cheek, and I twitched, startled. "This one could use some color too," he suggested.

I'd never thought much about spanking, which as a sexual activity I tend to associate with the repressed British, but, well, birthday boy. I nodded into the pillow.

He kept it up for several more minutes, and honestly, I could not have said which I enjoyed more. The marking was so concentrated, so intense, one spot on my body set aflame, while the spanking sent lightning sparking through every nerve. All I knew was that my butt was very happy to receive such dedicated attention, and so was I.

"That looks so pretty."

I twisted to look at my ass, flushed pink on one cheek, a red bruise forming on the other, and admitted that the color enhanced my normally attractive rear.

Rising on his knees, John reached for the nightstand, where Katie and I had laid in a generous supply of lubes. He selected one, kissed my shoulder blade, and resumed his place between my legs.

I realized that the time had arrived for the actual deflowering, if that does not sound too theatrical, but I had experienced so much pleasure already, my senses so buzzed out, that I didn't tense up or worry. I was ready to surrender my virginity to John.

He lubed up his fingers and using only one, started playing with my hole, which was already loosened by his rimming. With his mouth, he kept nuzzling my cheeks, taking an occasional nip at the mark.

The sensation of his finger entering was slightly weird, but not uncomfortably so, particularly with the ongoing distraction. The insertion of a second finger caused some burning, but then, clever man that he is, John found my prostate and I was lost. It's horrifying to think of the decades I have gone without knowing this pleasure, the feel of fingers stroking that small nub, every touch making me writhe and moan.

"You like that, don't you?" John asked, his voice forgivably smug, and I believe I gasped something sarcastic about him being a master of understatement.

"One more," he said, and I swear I could hear the grin in his voice, though my mind couldn't process what he meant until he removed both fingers and inserted three together.

By this time, birthday boy or no, I felt it was necessary to announce my own wishes, rising up on my hands and knees, doggy style, squeezing my ass around his fingers to keep them inside, and begging that he fuck me. Now. God, please. Now.

If I was a man given to being embarrassed, I might have been mortified, but I was too impatient and aroused to regret my shameless pleading for him to take me, to shove his nine inch dick into my ass and fuck me so hard I could feel him in my throat.

John was either ready to move to this stage, or willing to surrender his plans to my needs, for he removed his fingers, clasped my hips with both hands, and thrust his mighty sword into my sheath.

His cock has always seemed slender in comparison to my own, but it didn't feel like it lacked any girth when it was inside me. It felt enormous and very solid, burning into my ass as he began to take my virginity, claiming me forever as his own. I must have made some noise that concerned him, because he stopped. Halfway in, he stopped. As big and powerful as his dick felt in my ass, I could tell it wasn't all of his length. He hadn't even reached my prostate.

"I don't want to hurt you," he said, his voice sounding oddly shaky.

"Then fuck me, you moron! Fuck my ass until I can't sit down for a week! Ram it home!" I may have said something like that. I don't entirely recall the details of my verbiage. Perhaps I did not call him a moron.

Whatever words I may have said, John obeyed, finishing his initial thrust until I swear I could feel and hear his balls slap on my ass. He yanked out and thrust in again and again, as relentlessly as I craved, his passage easing each time as my muscles willingly stretched to accommodate him.

I have always secretly thought that my stamina was superior, but John proved he was no slouch. He fucked me longer than he'd rimmed me, longer than he'd marked and spanked me, and I loved every second. I wished we owned a digital videocamera. I would have liked to watch his long shaft plunging into my tiny hole, to see my ass cheeks wobble with the force of his thrusts.

However, Teyla and Katie got to view the splendid sight, as they entered the bedroom without my awareness, until one was on each side of me, bestowing kisses and stroking both of us. A hand I recognized as Katie's curled around my thick cock, pushing me over the edge, and I came and came, my eyes rolling back in my head.

It was good that we'd bought multiple sets of sheets, as we were obviously going to need fresh ones tonight.

"Honey." Katie kissed my ear. "I've never felt you come so much."

"Christ, do you know how that felt? The way you squeezed my cock like you'd never let go?" John muttered hoarsely in my ear, and I realized he was still rampantly stiff within me.

In response, I squeezed my ass around him, giving my best impersonation of a boa constrictor.

"Christ, like that. You are so hot. You feel so good. I want to fuck you forever. Every day. All day. I want to put you over my lap and spank you until your ass glows and then I want to fuck you again."

I don't know how he continued talking while he kept fucking me, but he did, a litany of rambling, filthy promises, most of which involved dominating or using me, all of which sounded quite acceptable and doable. I made moaning noises of agreement and enjoyed being able to fully concentrate on just the sensation of his long dick moving in and out, his swinging balls brushing on my skin.

He came finally, his voice high and torn as he cried out before he slumped on me, and I felt his semen trickled down my thighs. With all the energy of a damp rag, I collapsed to the bed.

Teyla patted my side. "We will get dinner ready. You two rest."

Dinner. Yes, we had a special dinner planned. And presents and a chocolate cake. But I dearly needed a nap before I could even contemplate moving. I thought John was already asleep, his weight heavy and warm sprawled on me, but he kissed the nape of my neck and whispered, "Thank you. That was the best birthday present ever."

In the few seconds before I fell asleep, I thought of how John had seduced me by dropping to his knees, offering first his mouth and then his pert butt. I had viewed myself as the alpha, the one who would be on top. But now I could tell I would crave being taken again, and again, offering myself to John for his use and our mutual pleasure. I hadn't yet taken his long dick into my mouth. When I had, would I develop the same addiction to the taste of cock, to the feel of it on my tongue? Had much had John completely changed my perception of myself? And would I regret it, or only wish he'd entered my life earlier?

The thoughts should have troubled me, but I suppose it is a sign of John's appeal that I only anticipated the future and learning more.

But I have rambled at great length now, so how our relationship developed and whether the power dynamics between John and myself were altered forever, must wait to be a letter for another issue.

Yours truly,  
Dr. M.R.M., Phd., Phd.


End file.
